


that which has drowned does not die

by wrennette



Series: a thousand words [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Illustrated, impermanent death, mer!clones, mute characters, original character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-30 23:58:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14508009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Everyone who drowns becomes a merperson. For years, Whirlpool thought it was only a tale they were told when they were too small to know where their brothers had been taken.





	that which has drowned does not die

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Everyone who drowns becomes a merperson](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/377610) by @writing-prompt-s. 



> Inspired by a [prompt](https://wrennette.tumblr.com/post/172313994530/writing-prompt-s-everyone-who-drowns-becomes-a) and an [image](https://wrennette.tumblr.com/post/162868365510/avegetariancannibal-bogleech-even-knowing) seen on tumblr that coalesced into a sort of sad mermay idea. mutism in mer!clones inspired by the fishman from the shape of water.

Whirlpool snaps awake with a shudder and a gasp, and nearly chokes on the water that rushes in, his mind insistent that he needs air. He does not drown. He has already drowned. He kicks out, and both legs move as one. Every brother decanted on Kamino knows the stories - a brother who drowns doesn’t die, but lives free under the waves. Whirlpool supposes there was more truth than fiction in the tale after all, staring down at the webbing between his fingers, his legs fused into a long, strong tail with pale markings that echo the swirling ink he’s had carved into his torso. 

He remembers falling, but not hitting the water. Down here, everything is dim and quiet. A splash above barely draws his attention, but he swims up regardless, curious what has fallen into his new world.

A brother sinks down in to the shadowy depths, and from below, others rise to meet him. Whirlpool tries to call out to them, but only blows bubbles. He kicks out, swimming as fast as he can to join them as they gently pull away armour and bodysuit. Gills are already slashing themselves into the fallen brother’s neck, and as soon as feet and legs are bare, skin gone pale grey with death darkens and fuses into a muscular tail. 

Whirlpool doesn’t recognize either of the others - how long go did they fall, he wonders? How long have they lived silent in the shadows of Tipoca City? How many brothers swim beneath the storm tossed waves?

A hand closes on Whirlpool’s shoulder, and he jerks, twisting awkwardly to look at the brother who touched him. The brother grins, clearly pleased at having survived Whirlpool, and Whirlpool scowls. The second brother, gently smacks the firs tin reprimand, then raises his hands. 

“Hello,” the brother signs in Mando Handtalk. Whirlpool grins at that. 

“Hello,” Whirlpool signs back. He taps his chest, then uses his finger to swirl a downward spiral to designate himself. The brother copies the motion, then points at Whirlpool, who nods. The brother nods, then taps his own chest. 

“Toothache,” the brother signs, indicating his own name. He turns then, showing off a row of giant sharks teeth tattooed diagonally across his shoulder from spine to left hip. He taps the brother who startled Whirlpool and designates him “Sucker,” another name with an existing sign. This name too fits; Sucker boasts long sinuous sucker scars over much of his torso and tail. Something very large had clearly tried to make a meal of him, but Sucker has evidently survived. 

“More deeper,” Sucker signs. Whirlpool nods his understanding. 

“Battle above,” Whirlpool signs, and as if to prove him right, the newly drowned brother jerks back to life. Toothache turns to him, draws his attention and begins signing. “You found me?” Whirlpool asks Sucker, who shakes his head.

“No, but we’ll ask around,” Sucker promises, understanding that Whirlpool will want to thank those who eased his transition. 

“Do you remember -” Whirlpool begins, then stills his hands, realizing the question might be overly intrusive. 

“I’m last of my clan,” Sucker explains, understanding Whirlpool’s unfinished question. “I liked to sit on the landing pads and watch the storms. I think I was swept over, too close to the edge.” Whirlpool nodded. 

“How many?” Whirlpool asks, and Sucker just shrugs. 

“Some very young brothers,” Sucker signs, hands jerky with suppressed anger. “Some say they fell like me. Others - I think they were - defective.” Whirlpool shudders at that. There had been a few culls from his batch, and the prospect has always terrified him. “I was much smaller when I fell,” Sucker signs. “Not many already grown brothers like you come down.” 

“Grown brothers die other ways,” Whirlpool signs, and Sucker nods, shoulders drooping. Whirlpool sags a little at that too, and reaches out, tapping Sucker’s elbow, feeling for the first time the roughened texture of their skin like this. Sucker looks up, and Whirlpool signs an apology. Sucker nods with a wry smile. He had always known after all, that they were created to die in a far off war.


End file.
